


Your Foot Falls Down

by siddershow



Series: One More Stair [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Character Death, Dialogue Light, Explicit Language, Kidnapped Stiles, Not A Happy Ending, POV First Person, Stream of Consciousness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-22
Updated: 2014-08-22
Packaged: 2018-02-13 23:11:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2168841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siddershow/pseuds/siddershow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I told Scott once that my last words will probably be sarcastic, but that was before werewolves. Scott got bit and suddenly the context changed but the sentiment is just as true and terrifyingly more likely as time goes by.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Foot Falls Down

**Author's Note:**

> I put clearer warnings in the end notes but it has major spoilers.
> 
>  
> 
> “It is a curious thing, the death of a loved one. We all know that our time in this world is limited, and that eventually all of us will end up underneath some sheet, never to wake up. And yet it is always a surprise when it happens to someone we know. It is like walking up the stairs to your bedroom in the dark, and thinking there is one more stair than there is. Your foot falls down, through the air, and there is a sickly moment of dark surprise as you try and readjust the way you thought of things.”  
> ― Lemony Snicket, Horseradish

I told Scott once that my last words will probably be sarcastic, but that was before werewolves. Scott got bit and suddenly the context changed but the sentiment is just as true and terrifyingly more likely as time goes by.

The hunters were nothing new, though we haven’t had to deal with any since the pack solidified and Argent firmly staked his claim over other clans. In fact, the way these assholes postured and sneered in smug assurance was almost refreshingly familiar when set against the monster of the week bullshit that’s been happening since the Nemeton reactivated. I mean, _fuck,_ I’m not even out of college and I’ve been possessed, seduced by incubi, caught under a fae glamour, almost been ritualistically sacrificed _twice_ , and kidnapped more times than I can remember. I might be the token human (and Allison doesn’t count, Allison is firmly settled in a level of _badass_ that none of us mere mortals can achieve) but does that really mean I’m the easiest target? Apparently.

So I’m kidnapped again and they’ve been going through the regular routine. _Where is the pack? Why is a human a member? Tell us where the Nemeton is. Don’t you have any dignity? How is the blah blah_ blah fucking blah. I know the pack is on its way. We have a system; everyone has to check in with Derek twice a day, whether it’s a “hey I’m not dead!” or actually talking about something and he responds accordingly. It helps a lot when everyone is with someone else literally all the time. The buddy system wasn’t intentional but when you get as close as we have the last few years it kinda just happens. Also, you know, I was snatched right in front of my dad. Thank _god_ we told him about the supernatural years ago or this could have gotten really awkward.

Oh look, Douchebag is back.

“Alright smartass,” and oh my god like I haven’t heard that a thousand times, “your alpha must be on his way and we don’t have much time to get things done the way I’d like, so here’s what we’re going to do.”

It’s really difficult not to get distracted when Douchbag talks because he has this burn that wraps up his neck and onto his face and I swear it looks just like a selkie I met up near Newport in Oregon last year and let me tell you, that was a fun couple of weeks. And by fun I mean horrifying. Not that the selkie was evil or anything, just that there was an infestation of kappas in her bay and kappas are fun for _nobody_.

So, while I was distracted Queen Bitch and Creeper walked in and _oh my god_ I don’t think I’ve ever actually been hit with a Morningstar. Who the hell uses _Morningstars_ anymore??

“They’re going to beat the intel out of you and when your alpha gets here we’re going to kill you in front of him.”

I’ve been threatened before. I’ve had guns to my head and knives at my neck and claws at my stomach. I’ve been tortured (but I hear sophomore year of college generally sucks for everyone). I’ve been within an inch of my life more times than I can count. But honestly, the mediaeval weaponry is probably the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever been threatened with.

“You’ve got to be shitting me.” They all stop, which makes sense because I haven’t actually said anything the entire time I’ve been their guest—standard operating procedures and all—but this is just too much. “I mean I can’t really make fun of the classics, we use a bow and katana, but really. _That’s_ what you’re going to use to beat me?”

They smirk and suddenly my back is on fire and I can feel my leg break and yep, Queen Bitch used Morningstar, it’s super effective! You know what? I’m just going to check out.

The thing is, when you’ve been kidnapped and beaten as many times as I have you realize that it’s best to have a failsafe for when shit gets real. In high school, Deaton taught me a spell that induces astral projection and doesn’t require anything but my own blood and a little willpower. It’s not something I use too often because if cast too soon after the previous time it becomes much more difficult to enter my body again. I got firsthand experience my last year of high school after a particularly bad couple of months and it ended with Derek traveling to Colorado to find a spirit guide and an epic quest to find my ‘lost soul’. The good thing about this handy dandy spell is that I don’t feel the pain of my body.

So now I get to sit back, relax, and wait for these pricks to finish doing what they do. Although my body might be worse for wear by the end of the ordeal because now that I’m out of it they definitely won’t be getting what they want from me.

Some time passes and the hunters take a break, assuming I’ve passed out. Douchbag is pissed because now they have to wait for me to come to but yeah, not going to happen. So my mind wanders.

I think about the pack. It’s a typical scenario right now; me captured, hunters sucking, the pack planning. This warehouse has been used by hunters before and you’d really think they’d try something new, but the good thing about it is that the pack knows how to plan an attack on the building. Allison will position herself in the catwalk and wait for Kira to cut the lights. Scott and Isaac will crash through the windows and Allison will start picking off the assholes one by one in the dark because she’s a magical badass.

Derek will burst through the front door like the melodramatic sourwolf he is and Kira will follow, blade swinging and crackling with lightning.

God I hope Derek doesn’t flip out too much. He always gets so verklempt whenever anyone in the pack gets hurt, but most especially me. There was one time we uprooted a gnome population for an allied pack in Albuquerque and Kira ended up with her arm nearly severed, but did Derek fuss and fawn over her? Nope! I got away mostly unscathed but with a minor concussion from getting thrown against the wall and the alpha is all over me. It makes compartmentalizing very difficult because _fuck_

 _Why_ do I only end up thinking about this when I’m having an out of body experience?

My affection for Derek stems from when everyone finally got their acts together in high school and he removed the stick up his ass enough that I started catching his humor. He’s such a sarcastic shit and the first time he made a joke that everyone got and had us in stitches, the look on his face was just— _ugh—_ like _he_ thinks he’s funny but didn’t believe anyone else thought so and he’s the biggest dork. He once told me that his family would make dog jokes all the time around strangers. It became a competition to see who could get the most people to break face and laugh. The first time he asked Scott if he was raised by wolves I fell in love with him a little.

Except I guess I forgot to fall out of love with him.

Jesus, he’s just so kind and you wouldn’t even know because he’s so broody. I found out that once a month he wakes up at five in the morning on a Saturday to drive three hours and volunteer at a community center program for disabled kids who want to play sports. I mean who does that? And as far as I know, no one else knows where he goes on those Saturdays.

I’m glad that he told me more about how werewolf senses work because back when I thought he could tell that I wanted to climb him like a tree I was such a nervous wreck. The scent thing is less of a specific emotion having a distinct quality and more being able to tell differences in chemical makeup and having to extrapolate that data. So he could guess that I was attracted to him if he looked for the human indicators and matched it with a scent that made sense, but I don’t know if he’s put that together yet. For all that I’ve gotten to know him pretty well over the last several years he still keeps a lot of things to himself.

And I know that he thinks he’s undeserving of love after all the crap relationships he’s had but mostly I’m afraid that if I make a move it will start a chain reaction that ends in disaster.

 _Speaking_ of Derek and the rest of the pack, ruminating time is over.

I always love watching our ragtag group of misfits work together. Even when I’m in the middle of the fray we’re all so seamless and used to each other’s presence. I had a dancer friend in college who told me about a camp she went to once where, after an entire summer of dancing with each other and getting to know everyone’s bodies, the instructor told them to close their eyes and improv. She said that because of the time they had spent together and how close everyone had gotten they all just _knew_ where everyone was and could slide from person to person without needing to see who they were with because they could tell by scent and energy and cloth and skin.

Fighting as a pack has somehow, miraculously, become as effortless and instinctual as she made that day sound.

Still resting outside of my body I watch Scott catch Kira and use her momentum to propel her into a hunter while using his free hand to claw at another’s face. Kira then rolls over Isaac’s back, kicking out at her opponent and catching him in the jaw and Isaac grabs at a hunter’s foot while he’s down so he can sweep back up, roughly sending the asshole to the ground. Derek has already maneuvered his own fight against two bad guys to give Allison a clear shot, making sure that they’re each struck with a couple of arrows.

God I love these people. I love them so much my chest aches with it.

I return to my body with a jolt and immediately cry out in pain because let’s be real, those hunters did a fucking number on me. The pack has a few scratches that are mostly healed by now and are generally not hurt which is good, really good.

“Stiles, what the hell were you thinking, letting yourself get captured.” Derek always says stuff like that like a statement. I think he thinks it makes people think he’s cool. I want to touch his face because his face shouldn't be doing that but my arms feel like heavy clouds and I can’t. I can’t. This is what I _hate_ about astral projection. The rebound of pain is a _mother fucker._

At least my voice still works. I can always count on my good old vocal box to be reliable.

“What can I say _—_ when a man in a van asks if I want candy how can I say no?” That… was surprisingly clear considering how fuzzy my brain is right now.

_bang_

I see my eyes blink slowly and Kira cut off Douchebag's head, slicing the selkie burn in half, before they open back up all the way. I can tell Derek is yelling and Allison is pulling out her phone and Isaac holding a struggling Scott. I can see my blood pooling into Derek’s lap where he’s clutching my body, staining his shirt and jeans.

I told Scott once that my last words will probably be sarcastic

 

everything starts to fade to grey

 

 

_that isn’t what I meant_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: As mentioned in the tags, this fic doesn't end happily. It's a stream of consciousness fic from Stiles' point of view and there is enough cursing for me to feel tagging the language "explicit" over "mild" is valid. Vague mentions of torture and heavily implied physical violence against Stiles. At the end, Stiles is shot and death is assumed.
> 
>  
> 
> I first thought of this a few days ago when I saw [this text post](http://teamrocketing.tumblr.com/post/87017033161/my-last-words-will-probably-be-sarcastic) on tumblr and had a horrible idea. This is the first Teen Wolf fic I've finished and posted on AO3 and I'm actually surprised it's a really depressing one. It's supposed to be a little choppy to imitate the leaps of thought made in Stiles' head. I tried to form a universe as I was writing this and I might honestly write some companion pieces but as of right now this stands alone.
> 
> I should probably say that in my head, Stiles died from the gunshot wound and although it could be read as open ended the intent was finite.
> 
> Thanks to Hermes for being a horrible person with me and enjoying this little ficlet way too much.
> 
> EDIT: Now planning on writing a companion piece detailing the growth of the pack and all the incidents Stiles mentions in this fic.


End file.
